


Traveler's Solution Re-Write

by PsychedelicBumblebee



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Fever, Gen, Hermes has a not-so-subtle crush on Athena, Hermes-centric, Hurt/Comfort, I have a headcanon that Hermes Apollo and Athena are close friends, Sick Character, Whump, and athena and artemis are their exasperated mom friends, have a headcanon that apollo overworks himself, hermes overworks himself too, siblings dynamic, they're basically both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychedelicBumblebee/pseuds/PsychedelicBumblebee
Summary: "I can't remember the last time I saw him eat, Athena." When Hermes falls ill, it's up to Apollo and Athena to help him through it, even if it means making sure he knows everything's going to be alright. And maybe cuddling with him. (A Hermes character study (an all-gods-of-Olympus study, really) on the aftermath of the Battle of the Labyrinth) (Hermes-centric)
Relationships: Apollo & Artemis (Percy Jackson), Apollo & Athena (Percy Jackson), Apollo & Hermes (Percy Jackson), Artemis & Hermes (Percy Jackson), Athena/Hermes (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	1. Help Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge nerd who may or may not have taken Latin all throughout highschool and I may or not have decided to slip it into a fanfic for a fandom whose author uses semi-correct Latin, cause why the frick not?
> 
> So I just gonna put the Latin phrases/words from each chapter before the chapter itself
> 
> fratum= brother  
> param unam= little one  
> Cuspis Videre Super= Literally: "Point To Look Over." In this context, however: "Lookover Point."
> 
> Too bad macrons aren't a thing on most sites. . .

"Hermes."

"Mmmm?"

"Hermes, get up," Athena called again, softly.

"Mmm. . . "

"Come now, little brother," she urged, lips pursing in a teasing disapproval.

He rolled over, wrapping his arms about himself and groaning. His eyes were shut tightly, jaw clenched, "Don' wanna."

Athena's fists came to rest on her hips. She heaved a patient sigh, but smiled, amused all the same, "And why is that?"

No answer. Her small smile dropped into a frown, puzzled until she realized her fellow god had fallen into a light doze. She strode closer to him, laying a hand across his head. She pulled away quickly, however, lips parted slightly in a silent gasp.

He should _not_ be that warm.

She was turning to leave, in order that she might retrieve Apollo, when Hermes rolled over again. He drew a sharp breath, as if trying to pull himself out of a daze. Light blue eyes fluttered open, his gaze making its way around the room before coming to rest on Athena. She gazed back worriedly, waiting several moments as he worked to recognize her.

"Athena? What are you-?" He seemed to gather himself at last, sitting up and shaking his head a little as if to clear it. He managed to push himself off the bed, stumbling until he was forced to lean heavily on the end table, both hands braced flatly on the supportive surface. He met Athena's gaze again, "Can I. . . can I help you?"

Her brows drew closer, concern growing steadily in the pit of her stomach, "I should ask you the same, _frater."_

The Latin slipped out, just as it always did when she was worried. Just as it always did with most of the gods, because they felt more in control when they fell back on one of their original languages, from a time when they were properly recognized, when they controlled and ruled as they _should._

But not anymore.

Hermes shook his head again, this time in confusion and dismissal. He managed a few unsteady steps towards the goddess, and promptly collapsed. Athena caught him easily, and helped him back to his bed. He groaned when he was settled, wrapping his arms about himself again.

"I have _work_ to do, Athena," Hermes stated, almost a whine.

"Not anymore, _param unam_ ," she replied, crossing her arms over his chest, smirking in spite of her rising disapproval.

"With all due respect, _do not_ call me that. I'm not so much younger than you, and you know it." He voice did not raise in volume; rather it stayed low, cold and cutting. "I thank you for your concern, but it is not needed here, I assure you. I merely have a few letters I must deliver, not to mention answer, as well as some packages. I will be _fine_ , Athena. Pray take your mother-henning elsewhere."

She put her hands up in mock surrender, "Very well. But should feel worse than you already _clearly_ do, _please_ inform Apollo. If I discover otherwise, you can be sure I shall hit you with a Webster's dictionary. The College edition."

Hermes nearly smiled at the familiar threat (familiar to Apollo, at least), but stopped himself, settling for rolling his eyes.

But another glare, and he was quickly nodding despite himself.

XXX

She knew he had lied when she sat down with Apollo at their usual lunch spot, and he failed at first to appear. Of course Hermes had lied, she reasoned: he was the god of _mischief_.

They were somehow beginning to graze the subject of whether Loki should be considered an ally or an enemy to Thor (rather heatedly, actually), when Hermes charged out to the _Cuspis Videre Super_ (as they affectionately called their spot), decked out in his classic get-up: winged sandals, winged cap, toga, caduceus. It was obvious he was running on pure adrenaline: eyes shining with ignored exhaustion, cheeks stained a bright scarlet, and stumbling a little even as he flew.

But he claimed he was fine, claimed he had too much work to do, claimed that he couldn't eat with them, not today.

"I'm not hungry, anyway," he dismissed too quickly, even as he snatched a healthy-yellow apple from the tray on their table, and flitting away so swiftly they hadn't time to rebuke him.

Apollo hummed in disapproval as he spooned some steamed rice. "I don't like this. I can't remember the last time I actually _saw_ him eat, Athena. I think we should check up on him, see how's he's doing. My healing instincts have been nagging at me since I finished with the chariot this morning."

Athena nodded, grim, "He looks tired; perhaps he's had trouble sleeping lately? I don't think he's quite moved on from the events of the war, nor have the rest of us."

"Meet me in front of his place at midnight, and then we shall see if can trust our intuitions."

XXX

That night, they found the sparsely decorated palace sitting idly in an eerie sort of quiet, as if no living creature had ever lived there. They teleported inside regardless (and easily, for they had long ago made a pact to keep their doors unlocked, so they could talk to the others), and settled themselves warily within Hermes' bedroom.

Eternity and an hour passed, in which they talked of all they could think to.

Around four in the morning, in the middle of a conversation centered around the motives and legacies of Thomas Jefferson and James Madison, Hermes stumbled in, shivering and exhausted. He didn't notice his startled siblings, fever-bright eyes fixed firmly and vacantly on his bed. He almost reached it, but his knees buckled suddenly and he collapsed in a heap.

Athena darted to him, gathering him worriedly in her arms. Fever-clouded eyes peered up at her, and his voice was but a weak whisper, "Athena, it hurts. It hurts so very much. Please." Then his head was lolling to the side, resting in the crook of her neck, as he wheezed.

His cheeks were flushed, a stark contrast to the frighteningly deathly pallor of his face; the sweat dotting his forehead accompanying it like an abusive friend. His skin burned now, too, rather than the deep warmth Athena had felt before.

As determined as a contingency, Apollo teleported out instantly, trusting Athena to do what she could for the time being.

She feared moving him, but recalled her brother's words- _"if he's merely ill, it won't hurt to move him a little, especially if it's to his benefit"_ \- and carefully peeled off the top of his toga to cool him. She made her way to his bed, slipping him beneath the covers.

By the time she was done, two simultaneous flashes of light shone behind her, and then Apollo's son, Asclepius, was beside her. He let out an alarmed noise at the sight of Hermes' corpse-like appearance.

"Oh dear. . ." he murmured. "I should think this is the worst case I've seen seize a god in the last few centuries, if memory serves."

"But you can help him, right?" Apollo demanded, shaken as well.

"Yes, of course, Dad," Asclepius replied, scoffing almost with indignity. His face fell again, grave, "However. . . it shall eat up significantly more time than we should like to cure him."

"It doesn't matter how long it takes," Athena reassured him. "Whatever must be done to help him."

And with that, they got to work.


	2. The Only Wisps of Nightmares Are These Tears That We Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermes faces some unpleasant memories, ones he's been adamantly pushing aside and trying hard to ignore. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latin words of the day!
> 
> ubi est?= Where is it?  
> iuva eos= Help him  
> scio, frater= I know, brother  
> quid est= what is it  
> pax= peace  
> in milia para partes= into a million little pieces  
> numquam sunt= they are never  
> tui= your  
> salva est= is safe

He was drowning in darkness, screams of grief and agony resounding all about him and throughout his bones, devouring his very entity. He couldn't see through the pitch darkness surrounding him, but he had the exhilarating, weightless sense of free-falling. Yet he felt pinned, tantalized by the idea of free movement.

And though the very atmosphere was boiling, an impossible frozen drizzle was falling steadily, pelting his tingling skin. The sound of sizzles and pops and the smell of scorched flesh penetrated his senses.

A light appeared, as if by some ridiculous magic, before him, accompanied by an all too familiar voice, "Lord Hermes, please wake up; you shall feel much better if you can just- yes, that's right; come now, open your eyes."

Hermes stretched out an arm, reaching for a lifeline that wasn't there but somehow could be, if he could just-

The light grew quickly, blinding him as he was pulled at a painful speed, and he met the waking world.

XXX

He jerked awake rather unpleasantly, blinking his eyes open cautiously, trying in vain to ignore the tremendous throbbing in his head. He found himself in his own bed, and swathed in several blankets, even as his body was racked with horrendous shivers. Something cool and wet was resting on his head. An attempt at keeping his fever down, he assumed, despite his body's evident icy notion.

"Thank Zeus," a kindly voice. The same from his dream, he realized with a start.

He also realized, with a growing sense of dread, that three familiar, concerned faces were peering down at him: Athena, Apollo, and Asclepius, Apollo's gentle son.

"What. . . hap'n'd?" He was taken aback by the rawness and weakness of his voice. Was he really weaker than he already felt?

"My lord, you have fallen incredibly ill. I feared, had you been unconscious any longer-" Asclepius' voice faltered, and for a moment he was no longer with them. Then, just as quickly as it had vanished, the light returned to his gaze, and he waved a hand dismissively, smiling kindly again, "Well, nevermind that now. How do you feel?"

Hermes took one moment to process the question, then another to craft an honest answer, "Like I've been run over by Apollo's ego-"

"Hey!"

"-and battled a great number of lions in the Colosseum."

Asclepius nodded thoughtfully, summoning a cup to his hand, "Lord Hermes, I must insist you drink some water. I shall check back on you when need be, and you had best get some more rest in the meantime."

Hermes sat up wordlessly, but groaned when his stomach clenched painfully. He clenched his jaw, eyes squeezing shut as he pitched to one side, breath rapid and sweat gathering quickly on his brow.

Had Apollo not caught him, he would have surely struck his head on the bed frame. Apollo propped his brother against him, arms wrapped about him to hold him up. He pressed the soaked cloth back onto his burning head with one hand, the other gripping Hermes' wrist in reassurance, "Hermes, _ubi est?"  
_

 _"_ S-stomach," he replied painfully, groaning and back arching, his nails digging into his palms. He cried out suddenly, unable to stifle it as his stomach churned painfully. " _Please_ , make it _stop_!"

Apollo looked at Asclepius pleadingly, " _Iuva eos_."

Asclepius nodded, determined and firm, "I daresay I shall do my best, father." He sent Athena to fetch more cloths, and told Apollo to coax some water into Hermes.

"If he can drink the water, even a little," Asclepius explained calmly, "he will be able to expel whatever is causing him such pain from his system, and he shall feel immensely better. The tricky part is convincing him of that."

"Why has he not already got it out?"

"That is commonly what happens with these mortal illnesses, yes. However, Lord Hermes has clearly not eaten anything of relative sustenance in _days_. His body has not had what is required to rid itself of the problem." Asclepius replied slowly, studying his father closely, as though he should have already known this.

He vanished before Apollo could answer.

After some time, Apollo managed to shake off his son's words, brushing the matter aside for the moment.

Getting Hermes better was more important right now.

"'Pollo," Hermes gasped, words melding together, "h'rts."

" _Scio, frater_ ," Apollo murmured softly. _Alright_ , he thought, _clearly the usual method isn't going to work_. His face lit up, an idea popping into his head. He dipped two fingers into the water cup, and, fingers still dripping, brushed them quickly across his brother's lips. When it didn't elicit a reaction, he tried again, then once more.

Finally, Hermes' tongue flicked out to catch the sating water. When he groaned, clearly wanting more, Apollo quickly obliged, holding the cup to Hermes' chapped lips.

After several small sips, Hermes' body finally rejected the water, launching him into a coughing fit. He shook with wet coughs for an eternity before it tapered off, and he lay against Apollo for a long moment, dazed. Then bile rose in his throat, and he barely managed to retch into the basin that Apollo held up to his chin.

Hermes mumbled a thanks before passing out once again. His breaths, Apollo noted with satisfaction, though still swift, had evened out a little. At that moment, Asclepius teleported back to the room, blankets heaped in a pile and a bowl of cold water floating behind him. He dropped the blankets at the foot of the bed, sparing a quick glance at the bowl in Apollo's hands before focusing back on Hermes.

"Asclepius," Apollo started, "do you think perhaps Hermes simply hasn't eaten _because_ he's ill?"

Asclepius checked Hermes' temperature before answering, "I had already considered that, Dad. Alas, that cannot be. Lord Hermes has contracted a severe case of influenza type B. And, if memory serves, the virus requires a mere twenty-four hours to go into full effect He has, however, not eaten or rested properly for _several_ days."

"So you mean to tell me. . . he hasn't eaten _or_ slept well, but _neither_ are a result of illness?"

"Father, I suspect the illness has nothing to do with his lack of appetite and sleep, and both have everything to do with his falling ill."

They both said nothing when hot tears ran down Apollo's cheeks and onto Hermes' pale face.

XXX

"Apollo!"

A desperate cry emerged from Hermes' raw throat as Apollo rushed to Hermes' room, finding his brother curled in on himself tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks as shook vigorously in what Apollo could only identify as pure, adulterated fear.

"Apollo! Help, please!" Hermes cried out again, groping blindly as if searching for him in pitch darkness.

Apollo grasped his little brother's hands firmly, " _Quid est_ , Hermes?"

The touch had calmed the messenger, but he was still clearly panicked. He had curled up in the center of his bed, as if fearing what might be beneath it or even around it. His eyes flew open, suddenly, those baby blues impossibly frantic and frightened, "K-Kronos, he-he came back with Ouranos and all the others. . . and May, she- oh, Fates, May. . ." His voice cracked, "Apollo, she died, and it was _my fault_ _!_ I should have helped her and Luke; I should've stayed! If I had just-!"

"Shh, _pax_ ," Apollo soothed, laying in the bed and gathering Hermes in his arms. "Kronos _et_ Ouranos are scattered _in milia_ _parum partum; numquam sunt_ coming back. And _tui_ May _salva est_ _."_

Hermes shifted, burying his face in Apollo's shirt, gripping at it desperately. Apollo pulled his brother closer, holding him close as he sobbed quietly. Apollo lay patiently, chin resting protectively atop Hermes' head.

They stayed that way until Hermes drifted back to sleep, tears still staining his face.

But Apollo did not sleep that night.


	3. And Immortality Is Not Immunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last dose:
> 
> amabo te= literally, "I will love you". It became a grammatical idiom which the Romans used to say please (like, "I will love you if you do this for me"/ "please do this for me")  
> nihil= nothing  
> moritus sit= a perfect, subjunctive, deponent verb, translated as: you might have died  
> sed= but

When Hermes woke, it was dark; a blessing in itself, for it was a mercy to the raging headache he felt pounding the inside of his skull. He attempted to move, but somewhere between his body and his brain the command slipped to oblivion.

There were arms wrapped snugly around him, and a chest moving steadily at eye level. Okay, so someone was holding him. Did not see that coming.

"Hermes?" the body curled around him rumbled softly, startling him; he had thought the person to be asleep. The voice continued, a near-panicked hue colouring it, "Are you awake? Say something, amabo te."

That was Apollo. . . why did he sound so shaken? His plea was so broken, he felt an immediate obligation to answer it. It took a great deal of effort, but he managed a raspy, "'Pollo? Why's m'head p'nding?"

"I don't know, Hermes," Apollo replied, letting out a sigh of equal parts worry, relief, and frustration.

Hermes cleared his throat, coughing as he trying to coax out his voice, "Wa's wrong, 'Pollo?"

"Nihil, parum fratum," Apollo answered, not missing a beat.

Hermes frowned. Neither the Latin nor the swiftness of his brother's reply had slipped his notice.

"Apollo. . ." he said warningly, though it was difficult to sound probing when his voice was rasping so badly.

"Est nihil."

"No," Hermes replied tersely, tired of Apollo's usual games. "I wish to know of your anxieties; we are te,Apollo."

The sun god hesitated, and Hermes heard him swallow thickly, sigh escaping him "You are very ill, parum fratum. I was worried moritus sit."

Hermes frowned again, surprised at the implication of that admittance, "What happened?"

"Athena and I had noticed something off with you yesterday, so I proposed we check in on you when you came home. You didn't even show up until four in the morning, and even then you passed out. Asclepius says you haven't eaten or slept well lately. Hermes. . . why did you not tell us something was bothering you? We wish to know of _your_ anxieties as well."

"I suppose I was too busy to really notice," he lied easily, then mentally kicked himself: Apollo was the god oftruth, among many other circles of influence. No lie would get past him.

Apollo's voice cracked in frustration, and Hermes could easily imagine the tears refusing to gather on the rim's of his brother's eyes, "No. No, that isn't why. Why must you lie to me? Tell what is tormenting you."

Anger flashed in Hermes, though whether he was angry at himself of Apollo, he would never say, "It is none of your concern, Apollo."

"Est nihil sed my concern, Hermes," his brother hissed back.

He went to answer, but the door opened at that moment, so he bit his tongue.

Athena strode to the bed, looking questioningly at Apollo: Is he awake?

Apollo nodded a little, anger diluted for now. The goddess took a thermometer from her pocket, setting it to default, "Hermes, turn over. I need to check your temperature."

Hermes shook his head stubbornly, though his resolve had begun to slip; he had seen Athena frustrated before, and he wished to avoid that if possible. He drew a deep breath, partly to brace himself, partly to collect his thoughts, "I'm-"

"Before you say 'I'm fine', little brother," Athena cut in, much to Apollo's quiet amusement, "allow me to inform you that the last time we had checked your temperature, it was just over one-hundred three. There is no lie, or distraction, or theory of yours which could even aspire to persuade that you've gone down an entire five degrees overnight, or that it hasn't indeed risen. So don't you dare let it pass your lips that you are 'fine', when it is unbearably clear that you are not."

A tense silence settled.

At length, Hermes growled, seething, "Fine," before turning over in Apollo's arms to accept his fate.

Athena handed the device to him, allowing him to check it himself in a show of respect. He took it gratefully, hands peeking out from the admittedly comforting warmth of the thick covers.

The thermometer was strangely heavy under his tongue, but Athena's intense gaze burning into him and Apollo's chest pressing protectively against his back was heavier, and suddenly he felt a gentle warmth in the center of his chest: it was nice, knowing for certain that there was someone who cared for him.

For a long moment, he felt as if nothing in the world could possibly go astray.

Then thermometer beeped, and the atmosphere was dashed, leaving Hermes in a deeper and darker hole than any illness or nightmare could cast him into.

But he tried to smile when he saw the number on the tiny screen, although it probably looked closer to a grimace than a grin. 102.8, it read. "Well, it went down a little," ventured, cracking the tiniest of grins. When it failed to elicit the usual response of snorts and smiles, he sighed, handing the thermometer back.

He borrowed back under the covers, muttering, "I'm sorry. I haven't been sleeping very well since the Second Titan War. So many children lost their lives that day, and what with Luke was forced to do, I just-" he faltered, his voice cracking as tears gathered on the rims of his eyes.

Athena crouched to meet his eyes, kissing his burning head, "Hermes, we would have wanted to know. We could have helped you." She carded her fingers through his wild blonde hair, her stormy grey eyes full of kindness.

He averted his gaze, swallowing reflexively in effort to rid himself of the lump stuck in his throat, "I thought you wouldn't understand, or perhaps look down on me."

"Hermes, you're right; so many demigods died during the that war," Apollo said softly. "Oftentimes I try to convince myself that I didn't care for them in the first place, that their lives can be easily forgotten, because it's just a wisp of smoke in the grand scheme of things. But these children are worth so much more. I think we understand more than you think.

"If you wish to talk about it, please never forget that we're always here. And I'm sure even that old drunkard Dionysus would be happy to help, after Chiron convinced him. Chiron himself would be more than happy to listen, as well, and he's excellent company. They'll understand, what with all the deaths they've seen first-hand."

A few moments passed before Hermes sighed heavily, snuggling at last into his brother's embrace. "Thank you," he yawned, eyes drooping and lips hinting at a smile.

Athena traced a thumb over his cheekbone, smiling back gently, "Rest, Hermes."

When Athena was sure he had dropped off, she shifted her gaze to Apollo and gestured vaguely at the door, "Go get something to eat, and sleep a bit. At this rate, you're going to get yourself sick. If I need you, I'll wake you."

Apollo scoffed, hesitating. "Very well," he said at last, gently prying himself away, fearing he might rouse his little brother. But Hermes only curled up, humming contently. Apollo forced down a fond grin, instead sending a grateful smile Athena's way as he disappeared, quite literally, out the door.

Athena smiled to herself, summoning a book and settling down.

XXX

It was still dark when Hermes stirred again.

But, now, faint moonlight flitted through the parted curtain, bathing the room in gentle light. Vaguely, from where he lay on his side beneath the blankets, he could make out Athena on her phone, most probably reading.

When he let out a low whine, she looked at him, her beautiful grey eyes shining with concern. She's so close she can easily card her fingers through his hair.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she was studying him closely, as if she could pluck words from his azure irises.

He squeezed his eyes shut (she was much too beautiful up close, and he was going to lose it if he kept looking). "What time is it?" he asked, words slurred and unfocused.

Athena's brow furrowed, glancing back at her screen, 'Four thirty-eight in the morning. Why?"

He shook his head, not sure himself. Perhaps simply curiosity? Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he lacked the energy to grasp at it long enough to examine it.

The space beside him felt suddenly empty, "Can. . . can you join me?"

Athena blinked, letting her phone go dark, "Are you asking me to cuddle you?"

Hermes blushed under her gaze, ". . . yes?" He hesitated to admit his desire for affection, partially because he feared she would grow angry at the implication of his request; partially because he feared for his life if she did indeed take said implication to heart.

He counted two beats before Athena smirked, though not unkindly, "Sure, Hermes."

She carefully slide onto the bed beside him, pulling him an embrace which had him nuzzling his face into crook of her neck, hands curled against her stomach. She wrapped her arms around him, continuing to peer at her phone over his head, where her chin had come to rest.

"Now, don't be getting any funny ideas, mister," she teased, laughing when Hermes sputtered in embarrassment, his face flushing again.

But she shoved his shoulder with hers amiably, and reluctantly he settled down. She kissed the top of his head, and he inched closer to her, a silent invitation for more comfort.

She hummed fondly, her voice gentle and soothing, "Rest easy Hermes."

And he did.

XXX

"How is he?"

Athena looked up just as Apollo walked in quietly, settling in her abandoned chair. She smiled fondly down at Hermes, "He's better, just sleeping right now. Who woke you?"

"Artemis," he replied vaguely. "She wapped me on the way to her camp so I'd remember to raise the chariot." He rubbed his head, wincing a little. "It also made me recall my patient." He paused, a grin slowly taking over his face, "Why are you cuddling?"

"He asked," Athena responded defensively. Hermes whimpered- a pained, harrowed noise, so she hushed him gently, kissing his forehead. He stilled easily, tucking himself even closer to her.

"And you agreed?" Apollo went on. Athena rolled her eyes and Apollo smirked, "You two are quite the couple, eh? So cute together."

Athena glared daggers at him, "We're not dating, Apollon."

He ignored the old name, pointing a finger gun at her and continuing to grin. "Yet," he added matter-of-factly.

Athena sent another glare his way, but Apollo couldn't help but notice she hadn't denied it this time.

XXX

An incessant beeping woke him, and Hermes felt truly horrible this time. His head pounded harshly, his body felt like lead, his breathing was heavy labour, and he knew somehow that if he swallowed, bad things would come of it.

He was too exhausted to open his eyes, so he felt around with his senses. He was obviously still in his own bed, but now a slight pinch was assaulting the back of his hand. An IV line and a heart monitor, perhaps. Was he truly so ill? He was eternally grateful that at least his mind had not yet forsaken him (he would have to write a thank-you note to Thanatos when- and if- he could move again).

He heard a rustle, making him aware of others in the room with him.

"- fever spiked again, as I feared," and though Hermes' mind was muddled, he recognized that voice almost immediately: Asclepius.

Two cool hands pressed lightly into his forearm. "His skin is disturbingly hot," Athena murmured worriedly.

Anther cool hand brushed back his sweat-soaked hair. "His temperature is at 110, Athena; if he weren't a god, he would have been dead long ago. But if we don't cool him down soon, this fever of his could do some serious damage," Apollo explained, draping one dripping cloth over the messenger's head, and another over his eyes. Hermes flinched, groaning weakly in protest, but Apollo merely shushed him gently.

Darkness greeted him like an old friend.

XXX

All that remained in his memory from then on was an impenetrable cold, accompanied by the occasional sensation of burning heat. He was aware that he was never alone, but it was impossible to tell how much time was passing or exactly who was in the room with him.

He knew, however, that at one point Apollo had held him close again as hot droplets trickled onto Hermes' burning cheeks, and Artemis had come in, murmuring senseless words of comfort.

He recalled, as well, an unsettling dream in which him and his dear May were in one of the many Olympian gardens, holding hands as they strolled along leisurely. Then time had suddenly slowed to a crawl, and Hermes couldn't stop walking and May couldn't follow, and he was crying out for her, begging whatever cruel force was dragging him away to take him back, back to May and her love and just her.

At last he woke with clarity, sitting up slowly and looking around the room to gain his bearings. Strangely, nobody was in the room.

He saddened a little, but perked up in concern when a weak coughing fit rang from the other room.

To his great relief, he felt almost as strong as he usually did, though he stumbled a bit as regained control over his legs, trudging carefully towards his living room.

The sight he stumbled upon was. . . unexpected.

Apollo sat shivering on his sofa, wrapped snugly in a blanket and scowling lightly at his lap as Artemis crouched before him, muttering to him softly. Something she said made him smile a little, and she rubbed his leg comfortingly.

"Hey," Hermes finally greeted, his voice somewhat hoarse from disuse.

Artemis- ever the Hunter- turned toward him without so much as a flinch, as well as a graceful smile, "Hello. Glad to see you awake at last, Hermes."

He smiled back, concerned when Apollo didn't even look up. He crouched beside Artemis, gently taking one of his brother's hands in his own. Apollo squeezed back feebly, but nothing else suggested he was aware of anything around him.

Hermes chased Apollo's gaze, but addressed Artemis, simultaneously curious and concerned, "What's wrong with him? I haven't seen him like this since Hyacinthus."

Artemis sighed in affectionate exasperation, "He caught the flu from you, though only type A- or so he reluctantly claims- so he should be fine. Because he was so close to you for a majority of the time you were ill, he was the most susceptible to the virus. I'm trying to convince him to allow me to drive the chariot, at least until he recovers, but he refuses."

Hermes hummed fondly, smiling softly as he wiped away a stray tear tracking down the sun god's face. "Come on," he said gently, and Apollo finally peered up at him, dark half-moons strangely distinct under fever-bright eyes. "Let's get you to bed."

"No," Apollo muttered, shaking his head faintly as more tears found their way down his cheeks. "Hermes. . . got- work. . . t' do. Can'-can't. . ."

"You need to rest, 'Pollo," Hermes entreated quietly. Apollo didn't respond, only dropping his wavering gaze back to his lap. "Come now, Apollo. Listen to your own advice."

And without another word, he lifted his brother carefully, blanket and all, watching Artemis go ahead of them to tidy up.

Apollo tried to protest, pressing weak hands against Hermes' chest, "No! No, Hermes. . . don'- don' need- I don' need- I don'. . ." Hermes glanced down at him, pulling his best puppy-dog face. He knew it wasn't usually very convincing, but apparently an ill Apollo was a sucker for it.

He hummed in defeat after a long moment, his head falling back to rest on Hermes' arm.

"'m'kay," he relented, clearly exhausted.

He was already asleep when Hermes let out a genuine laugh, the first in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, plot twist that Apollo DOES end up getting seriously sick. If you wanna see some serious Apollo whump and angst (because let's be honest, there's not nearly enough of it out there), I am currently working on a sequel focusing on that.
> 
> Although, admittedly, Apollo's disposition in that story is more Trials of Apollo-esque, but it's fanfiction, I can basically do whatever I want, to whoever I want. I'll try not to have any spoilers in there, though.

**Author's Note:**

> So I made a "re-write" because I'd actually written it on a different fanbase, and I gotta ya. . . it was BAD. Like as if my last brain cell had written it, and my actual brain had decided to take a backseat, then reviewed very quickly reviewed it, and was like, "yeah, it's okay. I mean, it's a total load of crap, so there's that."
> 
> So, I wrote this when I got older and realized that the first version WAS a total load of crap, deleted it, then churned this out in about six months, I think
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please leave your beautiful, amazing thoughts for me. They always make my day : )


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